I wasn’t reaching for an answer. I wasn’t reaching for an acknowledgement. I wasn’t reaching for confirmation or a rebuttal or a rebuke or a reason. I just wanted to “stretch”. The only way to recover old skills long dormant is to use them again, after all. I had no expectation of actually doing anything.
What mattered is that I tried to do anything at all. Isn’t there a saying that “God will meet you halfway if you only but try.” ? Continue reading “Spirit Journal: 2017-04-19.01”
“That’s stupid! You’re stupid! This is all STUPID AS HECK!” The boy wrenched himself away from the man dragging him towards the brightly colored camp. He left his brightly hued head cloth in the furious man’s grip as he stuck his tongue out in disrespect and turned to run away. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-02-12.01”
Shit is getting to the point where all I’ll have to do is post the word “bitch”, and you’ll know that Keri/Weaver got her ass spiritually ganked and thrown in the spiritual boot again. Continue reading “Spiritual Journal: 2017-02-05.01”
The dream was weird from the start. Scenes joined together in the way oil and water homogenizes. Abrupt changes and jumps through devouring plot holes confused me and kept me from finding my intellectual footing. At a scene where my father does the impossible and acts in ways he would never do, I give up trying to secure lucidity and just go with the flow.
Aleister Crowley appears then to escort me away from my father, shocking me into full lucidity and prompting me to laugh deep incapacitating peals of laughter at the absurdity of this new scene. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-01-13.01”
Too wired to sleep, too tired to function, I concede victory to the late night hour and tell the indifferent walls that I’m going to bed now. After a few minutes of being utterly bored and restless, I concede victory to my worries and get up to walk around.
Oh look, Harlequin is holding session in an outdoor venue this time.
Wait. Continue reading “Dream: Division”
I usually avoid listening/watching recordings of rituals, because historically, such recordings make me feel… uncomfortable. Maybe I pick up on spiritual echoes that ring me like a tuning fork. Maybe the years of shit I have survived and intentionally forgotten resonate in the mental caverns where my fear lairs. Maybe my lack of self-esteem made me feel dirty for watching undoubtedly genuine experiences that I did not have a right to observe, even though they were released explicitly to be observed.
I took a risk, and listened to an audio recording of a specific ritual that was published explicitly to be listened to at minimum, and to participate along with as standard. (What the fuck is time to spirits, amirite?)
Spoiler: I came out okay. Invigorated, even. Continue reading “Journal: 2017-01-05.02”
“You. Sit here. I overheard your conversation and I want you where you won’t be taken advantage of.” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2016-12-08.01”
I dreamt that I was sitting someplace dreaming of being driven to a ritual to be a non participating spectator. I had expressed my concerns about attending rituals and the catalytic role I often play unprompted (and undesired) as such events. My friends were not concerned. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2016-12-07.01”
Dreamt I was sent to investigate two high ranking men in a Christian church in a small town. The pastor and his right hand man (presumed successor). Both were possessed. Each had something eating away at their spirits and the light of the two men were almost gone. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2016-07-10.01”
Dreamt I was called in by a “spiritual, not religious” family to see to their child’s illness. The child was not responding to traditional medicine, and more than a few medical practitioners had quietly whispered “foul spirit” as they walked past the mother.
The father wanted to send his son off to a very expensive hospital for very expensive treatments that boasted of a success rate of 9%. The mother wanted to try one last very cheap option before committing to the financial burden.
Me. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2016-05-01.01”